In 2013, an epoch of complex and major illness in my life began when I dramatically collapsed during a flight from London to San Francisco.
Once I reached the ER in San Francisco, I slowly began to regain my ability to move and speak, though it was only the beginning of my treacherous journey with illness.
Today I am still not the woman I was when I was peaceably bathing in a deep claw-foot tub in Cornwall just a day before that fateful flight.
I now travel with a long list of diagnoses and a makeup trunk crammed with pill bottles.
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